Take Care, Another Postscript
by Whipper
Summary: Keith and David have a really bad fight. Strong PG13 though.


**Taking Care  
A Season Two Post Script,**  
written by Whipper 

_"Can I come in?" _

"No." 

"Open the door, David. Please. I know I screwed up big time, but we really need to talk." 

"No." 

Keith's hand slamming against the door. A loud, sudden BANG that made it even harder for him not to cry. 

"Dammit, don't be such a bitch. Just open the fucking door! I don't have the patience for anymore of your dramatics." 

"Please, Keith, just- Go for a walk or something. Please. You're scaring me. You're really scaring me." 

"What the fuck are you talking about? I know I was wrong and I'm sorry. Okay. I'm so fucking sorry. But this isn't all my fault, okay! You can't put all the blame on me. You think living with you is easy? Do you know how fucking irritating you can be? You think you're so fucking special, but let me tell you something, you're not. You're just another sorry excuse of a bitch with low self-esteem and a fucking Ally McBeal attitude. 'I want security, I want love, I want a white picket fence and three fucking children.'" 

"I'm calling Nate on my cell and I'm going to ask him to pick me up." 

"You calling your brother to protect you from your big, bad boyfriend? Why am I not surprised? It's not as if I expect a bitch like you to be able to take care of yourself. You need a strong shoulder to cry on, a man to take care of you. Fuck, David! You don't want a lover, you want a fucking father! But you know what? You make that call and you're not coming back here. In fact, you don't open that door right now and you can just as well pack your crap and leave for good." 

*** 

"David?" 

Not getting an answer, Nate knocked on the door again, this time a little bit harder. As he received no answer he turned the doorknob and opened the door. He was disappointed, although not really shocked, to see his younger brother standing by the window, his face pressed against the glass. David was wearing the same shirt he'd had on when Nate had picked him up outside Keith's place the night before. It was wrinkled and the top buttons were undone, leaving his brother looking less like the proper funeral director Nate was used to see him as and more like a tired, distressed man in his early thirties. 

"Hi, there." 

Even though he had greeted his younger brother in a slightly louder voice than necessary David still didn't respond or turn around. It felt strange and very, very wrong to see the otherwise so private man hurting so much. Not for the first time Nate felt like shaking the truth out of his brother. He wanted, no... needed to know what had happened. Wasn't it his fucking right as the older brother to right all wrongs done to his younger siblings? To protect them and whatnot. 

"I have some food for you," he announced without really expecting David to answer him. 

As he put down the plate he couldn't help but notice the rumpled state of the bed. It looked as if his brother had spent the entire night tossing and turning rather than getting some well-needed sleep. Nate sighed and shook his head, feeling more and more pissed off by the minute. 

"We need to talk, Dave." 

"No." 

Walking up to his brother Nate wondered if the monosyllabic answer should be seen as progress. Grabbing his brother's shoulders and forcing him away from the window and towards the bed he decided that even though a silent David was easier to deal with a talking one was still to be preferred. 

"What do you think you're doing?" 

David fought sluggishly to be released but Nate had no problem getting him to sit down on top of the bed as he was both taller and heavier than his brother. Holding two surprisingly small wrists in his hand he forced the younger man to stay still as he kneeled down in front of him. 

"I'm attempting to start a conversation with my kid brother. Something happened last night, presumably between him and his boyfriend, and now he's hurting real bad and I'd very much like to help him." 

"Why? Don't you think I can take care of myself?" 

"You've been taking care of yourself for a long time now, Dave. But there's nothing wrong with letting people help you when something's wrong." 

"Everything's fine. I'm fine." 

"You're lying to me, Dave." For a moment Nate was afraid that he had actually slipped into his HAL voice but when David didn't reach out to rip off his arm and beat him senseless with it he decided that he probably hadn't. "I'm the guy you called last night, okay? You were crying so don't tell me that nothing's wrong." 

"Wasn't crying." 

"Was too." 

"No. I felt like crying but I didn't. I was too afraid. I thought that maybe he'd-" 

David stopped speaking, worrying his lower lip instead while keeping his eyes locked on his hands. The brothers sat in silence for a few moments, David because he felt like he had already said enough and Nate because he knew that nothing he said would be enough. His brother's words kept repeating in his head; 'I was too afraid'. Afraid? His David? Of who? 

"Keith? Did he... did he do something to you? Hurt you?" 

His head filled with terrible images that made his stomach turn and his vision blurry. David being beaten, raped... Fuck. He had never thought he'd end up worrying so much about his brother. Claire, yes. She was a girl after all. But David, Dave was a man. He was supposed to be able to take care of himself, right? Only Keith was one huge motherfucker, he thought to himself. And if Nate couldn't take him on and win then how could he expect David be able to? Shit. 

Maybe the reason it felt so right to worry about Claire was because she was a girl. A heterosexual girl dating heterosexual boys. And boys were all assholes. The they didn't become much better when they grew up to men. Which meant that since David was gay and dating another an, and men were assholes, he was entitled to worry about David just as much as he would about Claire. 

"_You always did think too much,_" his father's voice whispered in his ear. _"Just talk to your brother. Ask him what happened! And if that boyfriend of his really did hurt him... well, there's a shotgun in the attic."_

"Dave? Did Keith hurt you?" 

"We were fighting. He lost his temper. That's all." 

"Did he... hit you?" 

"Fuck you, Nate. Who the hell do you think you are? Who do you think I am? A poor, abused spouse? I can take care of myself." 

"Yeah. I know." Nate was beginning to feel numb inside, as if all the anger that just a few seconds ago had made his blood boil had now turned into ice. "You can take care of yourself. You did. You left. You called me and made me pick you up and you got away. Now you just need to tell me what happened and then the two of us will figure out what to do, okay?" 

"I don't need to do anything! Don't talk to me like that. I'm not a fucking child." 

"Look at me, Dave! I said, look at me. I think you need to talk to someone about what happened between you and Keith yesterday, okay? If you don't want to talk to me, fine. Talk to mom, if you think that would be better. Or Claire or Lisa or... Father Jack." 

"Fuck no. I'm so not talking to him about this. Or mom. Or Claire. And why the fuck would I want to talk to your girlfriend about my private life?" 

"I guess that only leaves me then. C'mon, Dave. It can't really be that hard to tell?" Please, God, don't make it be something that's that hard to tell, Nate prayed. "You and Keith were fighting. He lost his temper. What did he do?" 

"He yelled some. Pushed me around. I didn't... didn't know it was going to get that bad. We've fought before, you know. And it's gotten physical before. Only before it was always sex and not... not... He never hit me before." 

"Keith hit you?" 

"Yes. Yes. He did." 

"_It's behind some old boxes. Might be a bit hard to find. But your mother knows where it is._" 

Yeah, Nate thought, thanks, dad. 

"Then what happened?" As David didn't answer, he continued with a pleading voice; "Dave, talk to me. Please." 

"I pulled lose. Ran into the bathroom. Locked the door. Called you on the cell. It was in my pocket. Guess I was lucky I never got the time to undress before the fight or..." 

Or what, Dave? He would have hit you again? Beaten you unconscious? Forced you to... 

"Then he went for a walk. You came, I left... End of story." David yanked his hands loose and laid down in the bed, turning around so that he wasn't facing his brother anymore. "Leave me alone now?" 

"No." 

"No? Why the fuck not? You said I needed to talk about this. Well, I've talked... now leave me the fuck alone!" 

"No." He laid down behind David, putting his arms around his younger brother's waist. "I'm not going anywhere." 

When the man next to him began to tremble he reached out to stroke his hair and muttered calming words in his ear. And, as David began to cry in earnest, he just pulled him closer and held him tighter. 

"Don't worry, little brother," he mumbled. "I'll take care of you." 

THE END 


End file.
